


Blue Bird of Happiness

by inkand_paper (Fabuest)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Consent Issues, Emotional Manipulation, First Time, M/M, Master/Pet, Non-Sticky Sex, Other, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:51:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabuest/pseuds/inkand_paper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The first of several parts to be written as a fill for this kinkmeme prompt:<br/>http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/491.html?thread=59883.<br/>Originally it was going to be a fic about Thundercracker taming his new pet. It turned into a story about Thundercracker taming his new pet while trying to fit in with the lead trine's dynamics and learn his way around the politics of high ranking Decepticon culture.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Blue Bird of Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> The first of several parts to be written as a fill for this kinkmeme prompt:  
> http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/491.html?thread=59883.  
> Originally it was going to be a fic about Thundercracker taming his new pet. It turned into a story about Thundercracker taming his new pet while trying to fit in with the lead trine's dynamics and learn his way around the politics of high ranking Decepticon culture.

“... four hundred thirty-two Decepticon casualties; seventy-three confirmed fatalities.” Soundwave droned on, his report as monotonous but thorough as usual. Megatron frowned as he listened. The Autobot resistance was growing more organised; just three orn earlier they would not have managed such a high kill-count.  
  
“Autobot presence in Helex quarter, effectively neutralised,” Soundwave continued. “Confirmed Autobot fatalities: three hundred twelve. Fifty-one Autobot officers, confirmed among fatalities. Autobot Commander-General Greenlight, confirmed dead.”  
  
 _That_ was good news. Greenlight had been a stuck cog in Megatron's gear shaft for vorns; good riddance to him. “Excellent, Soundwave. Whose was the kill-shot?”  
  
“Fatality accounted to Decepticon Seeker designation Thundercracker, rank twelve, unit forty-nine.”  
  
Megatron smiled. Soundwave never missed a detail. “And this Thundercracker, he survived the battle?”  
  
“Affirmative, Lord Megatron. Seeker Thundercracker listed among casualties, triage level five.”  
  
So the Seeker had not come away from the encounter unscathed, Megatron thought. Still, out of seven levels of triage, five was the most minor that would be treated by field medics – six could be taken care of by autorepair, while seven was little more than cosmetic damage. A level five triage patient could expect to wait in some discomfort while medics worked to stabilise and repair the more urgent cases, far from any risk of deactivation.  
  
“Good. Have him sent back from the front lines. I have a reward in mind for him.”  
  
“As you command, Lord Megatron.” Soundwave bowed and, his report complete, left the command center to attend to his other duties. Megatron watched him go, a slow smirk playing on his lips. Soundwave, too, deserved a reward for all his hard work. Megatron would see that he got one.  
  
\---  
  
When Megatron took it in his processor to reward a mech, Thundercracker thought, staring at his newly repainted reflection, complete with silvery-white officer's stripes on his wings, he really went all out. From untrined air support grunt to third member of the Elite Trine with one lucky shot – and he had been promised a major upgrade sometime in the near future, too.  
  
“Anytime yer finished gawkin' at yerself, yer t'come wit' me.”  
  
Thundercracker spun around, startled, and did not see who had spoken until he looked down. A black minibot with lime green accents and the Decepticon sigil stamped proudly across his chest was sneering up at him.  
  
“Dunno why 'e picked you, eh. Useless seemin' thing. Another vain bird like th'lot o' ya. Not my business though, is it?”  
  
“Frag off. What do you want, runt?” Thundercracker snapped before he could think better of it. He had no idea who this minibot was – he hadn't even known there were any minibots in the Decepticon ranks – and until he figured things out around here it was probably better that he try not to get on any mech's bad side. Likely it was too late for that with the runt, now.  
  
“Keep runnin' yer vox like that an' I'll break it, pretty bird,” the minibot said, with a glint in his optics that suggested he was more than capable, despite his size, and more than willing. “C'mon then, ol' 'tron says yer t'have a plaything, an' I'm the one t'give it to ya.”  
  
Thundercracker glowered, but kept his vocbox powered down just to be on the safe side. He followed the minibot to a lift which took them down several levels, then along corridor after downward sloping corridor until he was quite lost, and could feel the weight of Cybertron above them like a wall crushing down on his wings. By the time he estimated they were a full eight levels below the surface, he was wondering whether it had been wise to follow this minibot without question.  
  
“What kind of plaything?” he finally asked, his voice the only thing apart from the ringing of their pedes to break the silence this far down.  
  
“Not a real smart'n, are ya? Not t'worry, you'll see 'em in a klik, eh.”  
  
Sure enough, it was only another few mechanometers before the minibot stopped and keyed open a door. Inside there were rows and rows of Autobots, all standing offline in stasis pods, a low hum of energy giving the otherwise silent room an eerie ambiance.  
  
“None of 'em any use, eh. Nothin' worth hearin' t'say between th'lot of 'em. Can't kill 'em, but ol' 'tron never said a word 'bout keepin' 'em online all the time, neither. Saves on energon this way,” the minibot explained. “Gwon an' pick'n.”  
  
Thundercracker hesitated before stepping into the room, but soon he was browsing up and down the rows of silent Autobots, fascinated. One of these would be his, to do with as he pleased. A plaything. He smirked. That had been one Pit of a lucky shot.  
  
“Y'like that'n?” the minibot asked, after he'd paused in front of a small Praxian framed 'bot for longer than the rest.  
  
“Should I?” Thundercracker countered. The minibot would probably know better than anyone how easy or not the Praxian would be to handle.  
  
“Ah, so yer smarter'n I thought,” the minibot said. “Might should. That'n's new, jus' brought in half an orn ago. 'E was a sniper what din' watch 'is back. Useless, 'e was, completely useless. Din' even know 'is target's name, jus' seen a picture of 'im. Anyway, figure 'e'd never been hacked before. Walls din' last a quarter breem, an' 'e started cryin' halfway through. Purged when it was done, too, eh. That'n'll be easy t'control, if that's what yer after. Scared out've 'is processor, though, an' 'e don't stop talkin' fer nothin'.”  
  
“Yeah,” Thundercracker said after a moment. “Yeah, he'll do.”  
  
\---  
  
“How _dare_ you,” Starscream shrieked. “You can't just _assign_ another Seeker to our trine, you ignorant rusted excuse for a groundpounder. There's _ceremony_ involved. _Procedure_. _Tradition_. It isn't just about talent, if the scrapheap of a grunt you picked out of the _twelfth rank_ even has any of that!”  
  
“Quiet! If you wanted your opinions heard, you should have decided on a trinemate two vorn ago,” Megatron snarled. “We don't have time for your old-fashioned, secular traditions while we're in the middle of a war.”  
  
“It doesn't _work_ like that!” Starscream balled his fists, doing his best to hold back a scream of frustrated fury. “We're winning this Primus-forsaken war with or without a third in our trine, and it isn't your place to go _meddling_ with things you don't understand. Send him back where he came from!”  
  
Megatron's optics flashed dangerously, but before he could raise a hand Skywarp was between him and Starscream, smiling winningly.  
  
“Maybe we can just try him out. He probably sucks, okay, Starscream's right about that, but we may as well talk to him and... and, you know. Stuff. We can send him back if we don't like him – and we probably won't – but at least he'll get an awesome frag out of it.”  
  
“Frag him as many times as it takes to decide you want to keep him,” Megatron snapped. “Thundercracker is not going anywhere, and that's final.”


End file.
